Rupert, the Not-A-War Hog
by Anyjen
Summary: Frodo wants a pet animal. Bilbo mentions it in a letter to the Company. They send him one of Dain's war piglets.


**Rupert, the Not-A-War Hog**

If Bilbo was being honest with himself, he would have to admit that Rupert (originally Rôphèrtí, but no-one in the Shire could pronounce that) was quite a sweet animal. He was friendly and placid, and if sometimes he didn't know his own strength, well, that wasn't really his fault. In any case, he was always gentle with the hobbits. It was only fences, or small trees, or in one case a wall that suffered. He sometimes got an itch, and got a bit overenthusiastic while scratching it against surfaces, Frodo insisted. Good thing Bilbo now had enough money to cover the damages.

Wherever Rupert ambled, be it around the garden, or following Frodo around the paths of the Shire, he was always followed by a gaggle of children demanding to pet him or offering him nuts and berries, and tweens braving each other to ride him, which Rupert endured with a remarkably good disposition.

He could charm just about any hobbit he met for a few treats in the shape of a misshapen potato that wouldn't have sold anyway, or a head of cabbage that wasn't quite up to par, or maybe a couple carrots that were a bit past their best point, or even a small tart that had got a bit burnt. The thing is, he really was quite cute, under a certain light. Despite his long, coarse hair and huge head and even bigger body, he had big, soulful eyes that he used to his best advantage, and an adorable round flat nose that snuffled interestedly at people's baskets until the owners of said baskets caved and Rupert got something to tide him over until the next meal (and being under the care of hobbits, that was never far ahead).

If only he didn't have to be so beffudingly, exhasperatingly, bewilderingly, confusticatingly _big_.

He was already taller than Frodo and three times wider than the fattest hobbit, making it a real squeeze when he invited himself inside Bag End to snooze in front of the hearth, and according to what Bilbo had been told in the letter that came with the bundle of chubby, hairy, snuffling joy, _he wasn't even halfway through with growing_.

Really, Bilbo should have known to expect something like that. But who in their right mind would interpret his passing mention in a letter to his friends in Erebor of Frodo's request for a pet as a desire to own and care for one of Dain's _war hogs_?!

Dwarves, that's who.

If Bilbo had known in advance that they would be sending one of the enormous animals to him, he would have done something to stop it, if he had had to walk over to the Lonely Mountain himself to do it. He really should have suspected something, though. After all, no-one but a dwarf could interpret _"Frodo is settling in well, but misses the pets that are always running around Brandyhall. He's been asking for a dog or a cat, but I've told him that such an animal would not be a good fit for Bag End"_ as a desire for an even _bigger_ and more dangerous kind of beast. But alas, he hadn't suspected a thing.

One day, he had been minding his own business, sitting in his favourite chair with a good book while Frodo worked on his letters on his belly on the rug by the hearth, when the doorbell had rung, despite no visitors being expected at the time.

Imagine Bilbo's surprise when he went to open the door to find a small contingent of dwarves, travel worn and dusty, carrying a surprisingly adorable piglet in a basket, peeking out to snuffle interestedly at the smell of cakes that filled the air (it was almost time for elevenses). It was small, not quite a newborn but definitely no older than a couple months, with longish fur in beautiful brown and cream strikes.

Frodo got one look at the adorable creature, shrieked in joy as if he was a fauntling and not a tween, and Bilbo knew he was stuck with the animal for good.

To be perfectly honest, Rupert was nothing like what he imagined War Hogs to be. He was a bundle of energy while he was small and would run around the entire smial, chasing or being chased by Frodo and often knocking things down in his games, but he was not violent, and he was highly trainable. It only took him two days to learn to ask to be let outside to do his business, and he would always go do it in the same spot, making clean-up easier. When he was grown enough for it, he consented with good grace to letting the lad and his friends ride him, not throwing them off his enormous self even a single time. That put him several steps above every pony Bilbo had ever met already.

While he was small he had slept curled up in bed with Frodo, and would happily be carried everywhere by the overjoyed tween. He won the love of everyone who saw him with his good disposition and his soulful eyes, and quickly developed his considerable skill at weaseling out treats from hobbits young and old.

Even when he grew too big to carry and lost his streaks, his hair growing coarser and darker, folks still saw him as the sweet, spoiled pet of a happy child, and treated him accordingly, with not a hint of fear even when they were warned Rupert would quite possibly grow taller than the roof of a smial. If anything, this seemed to make him even more popular around Hobbiton, among the younger members of it, at least.

He loved flowers (both eating and rolling around on them), warm baths and being brushed, getting scratched behind the ears and being sung to. He disliked getting dirty and avoided mud puddles with careful steps, looking at other hogs wallowing in them with reproaching eyes.

Rupert was, quite simply, every bit a hobbit's creature of comfort, and not a dwarf's beast of war.

Bilbo pondered this as he sat at his garden bench, puffing his pipe. He blew a particularly fine smoke ring that floated lazily in the breeze, and looked mournfully at Rupert, who was rolling around happily over his begonias while Frodo laughed and Sam, his gardener's son, looked on in horror.

The animal really was getting too big to fit in Bag End, and it would be cruel to make him sleep outside, with the colder days approaching, and him not even two years old.

Bilbo sighed, emptied his pipe, and went inside to write a letter to a master builder, already calculating how much he would need to promise from his stored treasure.

If Rupert was to have a pigsty, he would have the best, warmest and comfiest pigsty a porcine could ever hope to inhabit, with enough creature comforts to make even the Elf King's spoiled elk green with envy.

Rupert was, after all, a Baggins of Bag End, and nothing else would do.

* * *

 **I was inspired by a couple of fanart pieces that show Dain as a child carrying a piglet, and the concept art for him, in which his ride is actually more a boar than a hog. I know it's** **not quite the version that showed up in the movie, but I like that one better, particularly with how strange it would look frolicking around the Shire like a happy puppy. XD**


End file.
